


i can hold my heart in a fist (this is all i ever wanted)

by starrylance



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Domestic Fluff, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, Light Angst, M/M, Major Character Injury, Marriage Proposal, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Oikawa Tooru's Knee Injury, Oikawa really loves Iwa-chan, Pining, Post-Canon, implied depression, not really important for the story, not really tho, they're both in college/uni
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:27:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23476945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starrylance/pseuds/starrylance
Summary: If he closed his eyes and concentrated, he was sure he could be able to remember all the tears decorating Iwaizumi’s eyelashes the last time they had met, nearly two weeks agoor, oikawa is an idiot and fucks up, iwaizumi is oblivious and sad, and we all love makki because he's the only one with brain cells. things end well, though.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 6
Kudos: 148





	i can hold my heart in a fist (this is all i ever wanted)

**Author's Note:**

> hello everybody, how is life treating you? 
> 
> i have had this little fic sitting in my folders for months. yesterday i decided to take it and fix some things i didn't really like and now i'm satisfied enough to publish it (before another five months passes). 
> 
> i may write other fics set in this universe and missing scenes i didn't add here.
> 
> english isn't my first language so be kind! thank you so much.

Today was a good day.

After a few failed tries, he had been able to fix the coffee machine that had been annoying him for days. Really, how would someone expect him to wake up in the morning without coffee? The blue piece of metal and plastic decided to stop working in the middle of exam week, when he needed it the most. He had tried calling for someone to adjust it but honestly, there weren't really a lot of people specialized in adjusting coffee makers — and with that he meant nobody, dear Lord. So, he tried to squeeze in his already tight enough schedule some time for hand work. And finally, _finally_ , he had been able to make it functionable again.

After that, he had managed to study for about three hours before his brain completely abandoned him, but that was good. Three hours were better than none, and he had understood the content well enough. _I'll review before sleeping,_ he thought to himself, and then wrote it down on a post-it, sticking it on the fridge.

His house was full of them. He had started to write them when he was in high school, probably sixteen years old, to help him remember what to do and when to do it.

He often would forget even the simplest things, like taking out the trash or brush his teeth; his therapist had told him to try.

“Write what must be done somewhere and place it where you can see it as soon as you think about it. It could help with time management.”

He had done it, found it worked and kept doing it.

It was a routine now, just as taking his meds and call his mother on the way back from university. Sometimes he would still forget some things, he would still go on for hours without drinking or eating, or days without sleeping, but it was rare. When the post-its didn't do their jobs, Iwaizumi was there.

_Iwaizumi_.

Oikawa’s chest clenched painfully as his friend's face appeared in his mind, painted in soft hues, shining quietly, and he looked almost unreal, even in his own imagination.

Sitting on the couch, the sun starting to set, letting the moon take its rightful place in the red and yellow and pink sky, he allowed himself to think about his best friend.

If he closed his eyes and concentrated, he was sure he could be able to remember all the tears decorating Iwaizumi’s eyelashes the last time they had met, nearly two weeks ago — two long, exhausting weeks, that had made him restless and bothered.

They had been hanging out together and Oikawa was being his usual self _(_ Kuroo would say _“annoying, insolent, egoist”;_ Oikawa ignored most of what Kuroo said anyway.). The TV was on and a movie was going on, but no one was paying attention to it, as they had slipped into a meaningless and light-hearted conversation about aliens and dinosaurs.

“No, no, list’n to me,” Oikawa had said, while Iwaizumi was still doubled over by the laughter, and he had to force himself not to smile at him, pride blossoming in his chest, _because he made Iwa-_ chan _laugh like that, oh my God_. Instead he had pouted and slammed both his hands on the table. At least, he had tired, but one of his hands missed and hit the edge of it, throwing him off and making him lose balance.

Iwaizumi had just laughed harder. “You’re so mean, Iwa- _chan_!” he had said, after having regained some kind of composure, not really meaning it ( _Iwaizumi’s face was red from the laughing and the alcohol, and he was breathless. His eyes were little stars and his smile was genuine and made Oikawa shake, wanting to reach and pass his fingers through his mussed hair, press him close until Iwaizumi’s smile was on his own._ ).

“I was trying to make a point, here,” he had stated, and had waited for his best friend to calm down a bit. Iwaizumi had made a gesture, as to tell him to go on and say what he had to. Following the cue, Oikawa had cleared his throat a few times, making a scene out of it (which generated a few more huffed laughs from the other, but Oikawa just pretended not to hear them, begging his heart to calm down.). “As I was saying, isn’t it so freaking weird that dinosaurs just completely disappear? Like, they rul’d over the Earth and had everythin’, and yet they became exin- extin- extinguished!”

“Kawa, science demonstrated that -”

“Yes, I know what science says, Iwa- _chan_ , but think ‘bout it! Everythin’ was _well_ and _fine_ and then _sudde’ly_ a meteor fell on Earth and kill’d them all? Then why hasn’t that happened again? Did atmosphere remember to work just after that happened? And like, it’s not as if the dinosaurs were all in one place!” He paused, taking another sip from the bottle, before putting it down and accentuating his pout. He leaned forward, and lowered his voice, as to tell a secret. “It’s aliens, Iwa- _chan_ , beli’ve me!”

He was probably making a fool out of himself, but he hadn’t cared, because Iwaizumi was shaking his head and his smile had softened his face, always so stoic and perfect, with his lips always turned down, his eyes in a permanent frown. Like this, hair out of place, eyes open wide and slightly lucid, happy smile, he looked more beautiful than ever.

_I can’t believe I get to see this._

Iwaizumi hadn’t always been that way. When they were children, he had always been the one teasing him for every time he had got hurt, yet still taking care of him when he cried. He had been the responsible one. In middle school, he had become quieter and quieter, and Oikawa had started to talk _more_ and _more_ and _more_ , trying to fill the silence that was slowly growing between them, refusing to let it win. He had started to practice more and looking more perfect and he would never shut up. He would spend nights up researching things to tell his friend the next day, when they would meet. And even if Iwaizumi didn’t say anything, he listened and stayed, setting him straight when he would walk out of line, keeping him grounded when he felt like a failure ( _how could someone so much younger than him, that didn’t practice as hard as him, that looked at him with so much innocence and hope, being so much better than him, who was the best, who had to be the best?)._

High school came and with that all the changes, that left him with a broken knee and a broken heart, but with a bunch of friends that loved him, truly loved him, and punched him hard when his body had given in, just for hugging him later, asking him not to do it again (if someone were to ask Makki, he would deny with every fiber of his body to have ever cried, but then Matsukawa would snicker and they would began to banter – that had happened, unluckily for everyone present, more than once).

When they had lost against Karasuno – when he had lost against Kageyama – everything had fallen apart. After getting out of his knee surgery _(“I don’t think I’ll be able to play ever again, Iwa-chan,” he had whispered one night in the hospital. They both had cried, holding onto each other, trying to be strong for each other, because that was they always did_ ) he had cut all the contact with people he knew, locked himself into his room and not answering to anyone knocking on the door to check on him. He just wanted to be left alone.

Failure hurt.

Failure hurt because, for the first time, he hadn’t failed only himself, but he had failed others, too.

Failure hurt because he had let the people he cared about down. Because he had let Iwaizumi down, and he couldn’t master the courage to face him again, to apologize, because it was his fault that they didn’t get to achieve their dreams.

Then, Iwaizumi had decided he was done with his antics, and planted himself out of his door, threatening him of not leaving and sleeping there if he wouldn’t _open the fuckin’ door._ In the beginning, Oikawa had believed it was just an empty threat, but as the day became night and Iwaizumi was still out there, knocking every now and then, he didn’t have any choice but to get out of bed and let the other in.

It had needed only a second for Iwaizumi to take in the state of the other: Oikawa’s eyes were bloodshot and hollow, with black circles under them, caused by the lack of sleep. His hair was greasy ( _when was the last time he had washed it?)_ and probably full of knots, his skin clammy. His nails were eaten and short, the skin surrounding them bitten.

_Why are you here?_ He had wanted to ask.

_Why are you here?_

Iwaizumi had hugged him.

_That’s why._

He had shattered.

Even then, even at their lowest moment, Iwaizumi had been a steady presence. When they had chosen their path, their universities, Oikawa had been worried their friendship would end, not able to survive the distance.

It didn’t. Iwaizumi had knocked at his door one evening, take-out in a hand, and had walked into his flat like he had owned it, and Oikawa remembered thinking, _if this is what it takes for you to stay, then you could as well do._

They had started to meet every week, every two weeks at most, staying together, eating unhealthy food and watching awful movies and talking until the new day was almost there, sometimes drinking, sometimes not.

He was so in love with him.

That night had been the same, and he _couldn’t_ be luckier, his heart was bursting with love. It was burning him, and he had wanted to cry, because Iwaizumi had been looking at him like he would look at stars and art and _that place they once went, with waterfalls and willows._

He had been looking at him with so much care and adoration.

Once again, Oikawa shattered into place.

“Marry me.”

He hadn’t realized his words had found their way out until Iwaizumi eyes had got even bigger and his smile had fallen from his face. _Shit,_ he had thought. _Shit, shit, shit. It’s not what I wanted to say._

He could feel himself blush deeply; he felt his chest contracting, his stomach twisting uncomfortably. “I- I mean,” he had started, letting out a chuckle he hoped didn’t seem too nervous. _I need to fix this._ “if Iwa- _chan_ were to marry me, I would get free food every night, am I right?”

_Keep going, idiot._ He frowned when his own self called him ‘idiot’.

You’re _an idiot._

_We’re the same person, goddammit. Keep going._

He had stolen a look at Iwaizumi: his carefree attitude was gone and had been replaced by a blank face. “Why would I even do that, Trashykawa,” he had said, looking more annoyed that ever. There was something burning hot and white in his eyes, and Oikawa couldn’t help but hide a shiver that started at the top of the head and went down to his feet.

He felt a pang in his chest.

_Yeah, why would he do that?_

_Shut up._ He grimaced at the petulant voice in his mind. It wasn’t time to get in a fight with himself.

Trying to keep eye contact, Oikawa had smiled wider, hoping it looked less fake than it felt. “Because of course Iwa- _chan_ is my dearest friend,” he had concluded, and if he sounded a little bitter, he could blame it on the alcohol, “obviously. But stop looking so contrite, it’s not like I really want to marry you. I would definitely hate it.” He had then let out a _huff_ , crossing his arms.

Something had flickered in Iwaizumi’s eyes. His eyebrows had tensed for a second, before heaving out.

“I see,” he had said. His voice was empty. Iwaizumi had wetted his lips, and Oikawa _of course_ hadn’t followed the movement of the tongue. Iwaizumi had passed the tongue over his upper lip once again, before saying, “I see.”

It was then that Oikawa had realized three fundamental things at the exact same time.

First, he was shaking, and he was pretty sure his forced smile had disappeared, too. He felt cold, even though it wasn’t winter yet and he had been wearing a black and yellow hoodie over his shirt.

Second, he loved Iwaizumi too much. He had thought he could have lived with knowing that his love would never be required by the other. He couldn’t. He was aching deep inside, and in a moment of weakness he had told Iwaizumi a bit of truth, something that should have never got out.

Third, Iwaizumi was crying.

He had panicked. “Iwa- _chan_?”

The other had just shook his head and a tear had fallen down his cheeks, followed by another and _another_ and _another_.

_Please don’t cry._

_Please, please, stop crying._

“Iwa- _chan_?”, he had tried again, but as Oikawa had moved closer, Iwaizumi got up.

“I have to go,” he had said, sounding as broken as he had looked. _Don’t let him go._

“But -”

“Thank you for the evening.”

_Don’t let him go!_

It was too late.

“Please, stay,” he had whispered as the door shut closed. No one had answered back.

_How can I make you stay?_

_*_

That had happened one twelve days ago, and Oikawa had called his best friends ( _they were still friends, right?_ ) every day, leaving message in the answering machine, and had texted him, but his messages never arrived.

He sighed and opened his eyes. Reality welcomed him back. His apartment was the same as that day – the small TV screen in front of the couch, separated from it only by a few inches and the little brown table, now full of papers and pencils. He had been working on his exam (which was coming too soon, really. It seemed only a year ago that he had graduated from High School), after all his thesis wasn’t going to write itself, no matter how much he glared at it angrily.

His gaze met a yellow piece of paper – another post-it.

_Rest, eat, drink._

He knew why Iwaizumi hadn’t been answering his calls. He had had enough time to himself to think about all the possible reasons about why his friend had started crying and then disappeared from everywhere. _Is he mad, is he upset, does he hate me_ , all those thoughts had run through his head day after day, night after night, leaving him helpless and hopeless and without a single clue.

Then he had got it.

Iwaizumi had always understood him, he always knew him and what he didn’t say. Iwaizumi had seen through the shreds of his badly built lie, like he had done every single day since middle school, had seen through the fake smile, and had finally caught on. He had seen Oikawa’s heart, aching for him, _because_ of him.

Iwaizumi had understood the reality – had uncovered his secret. He had seen the truth behind every gesture and had decided that it was enough. Maybe he didn’t want to reject him, in respect of all the years of friendship the two shared, or maybe he couldn’t simply bring himself to talk to him.

Maybe he was disgusted.

Oikawa mentally shook his head. It didn’t matter.

What it matted was that Iwaizumi had gone away.

So, Oikawa, had continued to text him, knowing well that the other wasn’t reading those texts, and had slowly stopped calling him. The last call had been a week and a day ago.

_Rest, eat, drink._

The post-it seemed to scowl at him, remembering how to be human.

He smiled to himself, a tiny smile, feeling tired. He had written that down because he knew he was prone to study for long hours, even when he should be doing something else – like eating real food. He got up and went to the fridge, hoping to find some edible food (maybe there was some leftover from last week, when his grandmother had gone visiting him). While he was opening the fridge (“ _eat something that’s not instant ramen_ ” was on a post-it, the letters almost faded completely, and it looked more like “ _eat not amen_ ”, but he had it memorized by now), the phone rang. He hummed to himself, ignoring it in favor of taking out some rice from the fridge and putting it on the counter near the stoves.

His stomach grumbled.

_I’m hungry,_ he thought, slightly annoyed at his body. _Aliens don’t need food, that’s why they’re the superior race._

Honestly, humans were so weird, needing food at least thrice per day. He scoffed, while putting the rice into a pot. Some fell on the floor and he sighed again.

The phone rang again.

He bowed down to pick the fallen grains.

The phone stopped ringing.

Oikawa turned on the stove.

The ringtone sang one more time.

“Alright, alright, I’m coming, I’m coming,” he muttered, exasperated. He didn’t make it fast enough, though, because as he picked the phone up and turned it over to see who was calling, the answering machine started.

His heart stuttered.

_Three missed calls from_ **Iwa-chan** **< 3**

Could that be for real?

_Should I call him back?,_ he thought, not knowing what to do. After those days of radio silence, he hadn’t really expected him to finally answer, let alone call back.

_Pling!_

A notification had appeared.

_One (1) message from_ **Iwa-chan <3**

Oikawa swallowed. His hands shook when he opened the message.

‘Open up. I’m at your door.’ Before being able to reply ( _with what, exactly? ‘_ I’m sorry what I said made you uncomfortable _’? ‘_ Why are you here _’? ‘_ Please, don’t joke around’ _? Should he apologize, should he ignore him, like he had done for the past week and half?_ How he wished to have someone telling him what to do, how to do it _._ ), another text arrived. ‘I know you’re there.’

_Open up. I’m at your door. I know you’re there._

Oh, God.

The full meaning of that set of messages finally hit him, slapping him on his face. Oh, _dear_ , _holy_ _God_ , he was there. Like, a few meters away from him. _There_.

He couldn’t do it.

He felt like throwing up.

How do you face someone whom you accidently confessed to (he freaking asked him to marry him, he should have asked him for a date first, at least, _dammit_ ) and then denied everything in the worst way possible?

A knock wakened him from his state of mental screaming. Someone – _Iwaizumi_ , his brain supplied. Oikawa didn’t feel exactly grateful to be reminded of that – was there.

He had to open up.

“I can do this.”

_Yeah, sure._

Then, he took a deep breath.

_He could do that_.

*

When Oikawa had first realized that what he felt for his best friend was something more than friendship, he had felt like a scuba diver, who had been underwater for so long that he had forgotten how air tasted like, finally came out of the water and breathed fresh air again for the first time, felt the breeze on his face and the wind in his air, and suddenly remembered why he had loved being alive.

He had been looking at Iwaizumi spiking his toss, and, for a second, it was as if time had stopped and everything had frozen still.

Iwaizumi was sweating, his face, his arms, his legs were glistening. His muscles were tense, ready to do their job. The shirt was clinging on the boy’s frame, sweat making it almost see-through. The light that came from the windows on the sides of the gym circled Iwaizumi: it danced around him, following the natural lines of his body, and climbed up his shoulder, caressed his face and then set on his head, like a halo.

He had looked perfect.

Iwaizumi had spiked and landed on the floor. He had looked at him with a big smile, and his nose had scrunched, a tell-tale sign that his smile was honest. His hair had fallen gently back on him, covering his eyes partly.

They had won and everybody was cheering, and his team was clapping him and their ace on the back, but, for the first time ever, Oikawa hadn’t cared about victory.

Because Iwaizumi was beautiful, and happy, and Oikawa was in love.

It had been so simple, _oh_ _so simple_ , to fall for his best friend. Iwaizumi was everything Oikawa was not – collected, calm, kind, lovable, real, steady, brave.

Iwaizumi was that and then some more, because he couldn’t be just those things, _no_ , he had to be smart, _too_ , insanely smart, and beautiful, and funny, and even _freaking weird_ at times (nobody had believed him when he had told them once that, as a child, Iwaizumi had thought that gummy worms were alive and had been scared shitless when Oikawa had eaten one in front of him, but it was okay, because he and Iwaizumi had shared a look, and Oikawa knew that he was the only one allowed to see that part of his best friend.).

It didn’t hurt.

It didn’t hurt because, even if what he felt ran deeper, his friendship with Iwaizumi was enough for him, made him happy. He felt lighter, _cleaner_ , when he was with the other, and his soul would sing whenever Iwaizumi laughed or smiled.

Oikawa knew Iwaizumi loved him – even if he didn’t tell him often. He knew they were each other friends and that Iwaizumi would do everything for him, would give up on everything for him.

He knew Iwaizumi was not in love with him.

It was okay.

Until it wasn’t anymore.

Now, he was in front of the person he had loved for years, quietly and then louder, and the words that used to come so easy to him, that had more than once salvaged his friendship with Iwaizumi, that had been a way to control the situation, a way to protect himself and hurt others, failed, leaving him speechless.

Iwaizumi looked awful, as if he had been running a marathon or something with an empty stomach and two hours of sleep behind. If the situation was different, Oikawa would smile, and joke about his messy hair, asking him if he needed some beauty tips _(“Iwa-chan, you brute, you could have the best advices ever, if you only asked!” “From you, I doubt it would even be an advice.”_ ). If the situation was different, Oikawa would sneak an arm around the other’s shoulders and bring him closer, laughing, enjoying his presence and loving him in silence.

But the situation wasn’t different, and they were there, standing, staring at each other, waiting for something to happen, anything to happen.

_Should I say something-_

“You’re an idiot.”

Then.

Then Iwaizumi kissed him.

*

Later, he would discover that Iwaizumi and Makki had talked, and only then, _only then_ , Iwaizumi had understood the truth. He had then run and caught the first train, trying to find the right words to say (“ _And all you came out with was ‘you’re an idiot’? Honestly, Iwa-_ chan _, I am quite disappointed_ ” “ _I can walk out of here, if you’d like_.” He didn’t walk out.).

Later, he would trace carefully all the lines on Iwaizumi’s face, would trace his lips and his nose and his eyelids, would touch his skin how he had wanted to do for so long, memorizing every part of him, because he finally could.

Later, they would kiss again and again and again, and lay down together, faces so close they were sharing the same breath, and Oikawa would get lost into Iwaizumi’s eyes, so dark yet shiny, and would forget how to breath.

Later, they would talk and discuss what needed to be discussed.

Now that they had found each other again, they could count on that. They had time.


End file.
